


All I Ever Wanted

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might possibly be the most mortifying moment of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Ever Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to the wonderful Heather for encouraging this plot bunny. Title from Hunter Hayes' _Wanted._

He pushes off the workout mat and stands, shooting a smile back at her as he heads for the kitchen, stepping around a couple boxes as he does.

A couple boxes.

More like the extra room of their condo resembles a shipping company and not a pseudo gym.

It’s been almost a month since they’ve moved in, but their weeks are so busy. By now they can balance it—days in the office, nights working from the basement of Verdant—pretty well, but it leaves a short amount of time for unpacking and organizing.

Plus, there are things he’d _much_ rather be doing with her besides unloading boxes of extra dinnerware.

“Maybe we can convince Thea to leave Drake in charge and...” Her words become muffled and even with his back to her, he knows she’s wiping the slight sheen of sweat from her face, running a towel through her long hair.

Knowing she’s right behind him, he’s stepping out of the room and turning to face her when it happens.

His foot slips on the hardwood floor and before he can do anything about it, even contemplate a reaction, his arms are windmilling, legs going out from under him as he lands on his ass.

He hears Felicity gasp and then she’s on her knees next to him, towel abandoned somewhere on the floor behind them, gaze sharp as it drifts over him.

Groaning, he lets his head fall back against the floor, his arms spreading out from his sides as he presses his eyes closed.

Curling up and dying suddenly doesn’t seem like such an odd expression.

Because, yes, it hurts—there’s a dull throbbing in his back and his breath has been completely knocked from his body—but it’s nowhere near the worst injury he’s ever had. Not even in the span of time since he’s been back.

Not even close.

But that it could have so easily been avoided. If he’d just been paying attention, not been so focused on his gorgeous partner (because they both refused to use the term boyfriend/girlfriend; they weren’t in middle school, after all), he would have remembered that the carpet of the bedrooms gave way to the slick flooring in the hall.

Well, maybe not, but the odds were higher and then maybe his instinct would have actually had a fighting chance to kick in and he would’ve stumbled into the door frame awkwardly instead of landing on the floor like some drunken playboy.

But she had seen it, probably in super slow motion if he knew her brain, and the realization pushes any embarrassment over his past away. None of that matters because it’s been ages since he even thought about that person, this is now and fresh and she’s here...

Yep, it might possibly be the most mortifying moment of his life.

Letting a harsh breath out he presses his eyes shut even tighter, heat flaring on the tips of his ears, crawling up his neck as her hands skim up his legs.

“...not even the worst time. _That_ was probably in high school when I took a header into the drum major. On the field. During homecoming week. We ended up knocking over a couple sousaphone players and the school mascot and it was just...” She leans back on her haunches, satisfied that he’s fine.

“Just?”

“Mortifying. There was a picture in the yearbook and everything, but I survived and look at me now.” She gestures towards him even though his eyes are still shut. “I’ve got two amazing jobs and a guy who most of those girls in high school would kill to spend two minutes with.”

“Hey, I don’t work _that_ fast.”

“Not anymore you don’t.” She chuckles, tipping her head towards him and letting her nails scrape over his shoulders the way she knows he loves.

The corner of his mouth tips up slightly as his eyes finally open. He continues to stare up at the ceiling though, his mind rushing through possible things to blame, embarrassment still lingering. “It... I...” He pushes up on his elbows, inhales sharply. “I obviously didn’t study the blueprints for this place closely enough.”

Their gazes meet and he can see the laughter welling up even before it starts. It breaks free almost immediately, her head tipped back, teeth tugging at her lower lip as her hand slides through the air in reenactment of the fall as she snorts.

The sound, the lightness of it, crashes over him and now he’s laughing, too. Uncontrollably so, tears welling in the corner of his eyes, his shoulders shaking from it.

Her legs bracket his, eyes bright with relief and happiness as laughter continues to escape and suddenly it’s not the worst feeling ever anymore. It’s almost intoxicating, her weight on his legs, the rush and warmth of being able to be this open with someone.

Of being with her.

His fingers drift over her thighs, splay across her hips and he grins up at her, thumbs stroking slow circles across the soft material of her yoga pants. “So... what’s the diagnosis?”

Slowly, she stands, hauling him to his feet after her. “You’ll survive; nothing more serious than a few black and blues.” Her fingers thread through his and she pulls him forward, towards their room. “Just to be safe though, I think a long, hot shower is in order.”


End file.
